


Daporath's Retainer

by AlouVero



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: (Most canon characters will not stick around), Archery, Assassins, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Characters to be added as the appear - Freeform, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Not Beta Read, Orphaning, Other, Tags May Change, The Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, eventually, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:54:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24580396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlouVero/pseuds/AlouVero
Summary: “Not many wood elves would choose to come alone to Skyrim..”Then it's a good thing he didn’t.Aka, I've been playing Skyrim in character and wanted to write about it.
Relationships: Amnesiatic Wood Elf/The All Knowing Voice In His Head
Kudos: 1





	Daporath's Retainer

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for the Helgen into with dialogue ripped straight from memory.

It would have been a fine day to die. Sunny, blue skies, fluffy clouds, dragon burning an entire village of innocent people to the ground.

  
“ _Not so innocent. They were about to put you to death remember?”_

 _  
_ The voice in his head was right, they had been. He wasn’t even sure what crime he was being charged with, fuck, he didn’t even know his name.

  
“ _Your name is Ritlyn Willowlock,”_ The voice supplied ever so helpfully, “ _and it's about time you got moving.”_

  
“Come on, elf! The gods won’t give us another chance!” 

One of the stormcloaks that he’d woken up in the back of the prison wagon with was yelling in his ear, effectively bringing Ritlyn back to reality. The nord pulled him to his feet by the back of his rags, almost lifting him off of the execution block with one hand. He tried to lead him towards the nearest shelter, but Ritlyn paid him little mind, instead he was searching the clouds above for another look at the incredible beast. Not long ago it’d swooped in close enough to him that he’d felt its breath tousle his hair. 

  
The elf was mildly annoyed when he was dragged into a stone tower. He’d lost his view of the sky, and the stormcloak had just up and dropped him onto the dusty floor.

  
“Jarl Ulfric! Could the legends be true-”

Ritlyn managed to stand, using his bound hands against the floor to steady himself. He paid no mind to the other men’s chattering,

  
_“Upstairs,”_ came the same soothing voice from before, _“Go up the stairs Ritlyn, slowly.”_

 _  
_ “Will I see it again?” Ritlyn said aloud, drawing the attention of the stormcloaks as he tentatively began climbing the stairs.

  
“Hey elf! What are you-”

  
The wall near the top of the stairs exploded. Ritlyn found himself looking into those blood red eyes once again, awed as the dragon’s maw opened and spewed hot fire in through the hole it had made. Ritlyn stood where he was, the flames licking right in front of his nose- but not managing to reach far enough to burn him.

  
Within moments the dragon was gone again, and Ritlyn received new directions.

  
_“Jump, you can make it into the hole in the roof right ahead. Do you see it?”_

_  
_ Ritlyn looked out at the burning inn below.

  
“It’s on fire..”

  
_“Does that bother you?”_

_  
_ It didn’t. If anything it excited him. He leapt from one building into the other, bare feet landing on the inn’s splintering and charred remains of its upper floor.

  
_“Keep moving now, get back out. Find and follow the man from before. The one that had the list.”_

Ritlyn clambered over to a hole in the floor, one large enough for him to jump down.

  
“Why him?”  
  
“ _He’s fated to survive this day, many others are not.”_ _  
__  
_ The ground floor of the inn was just as destroyed as the one above, but that only made it possible for Ritlyn to wander out of a smoldering hole in one wall and straight into the chest of the imperial soldier he’d been told to find.  
  
“Still alive prisoner?” The soldier's voice was teasing in a tired sort of way, “Stick close to me if you want to stay that way.”  
  
Given how he’d been planning on doing so anyway, Ritlyn had no objections as the soldier led him through the burning streets.

A deep, guttural roar sounded overhead, close enough that Ritlyn had felt the dragon's voice shake his chest.  
  


“- the wall!”  
  
He hadn’t caught all of what the soldier had screamed at him, so he was momentarily stunned by the force of the man shoving him against the stone wall. Then the dragons talons were digging into the stone, inches from his face. Just as he reached out to touch it, it was flying off again.  
  
It was lucky the soldier seemed hesitant to leave him to die, because Ritlyn dragged his feet and gawked at the sky right up until he was shoved through the door of the keep.  
  
The elf face planted on the cold stone floor.  
  
“Ouch..”  
  
“Sorry, I’m sorry, I was just trying to get us to safety. Here,” the soldier helped him get upright, then used a knife to free his hands, “My name is Hadvar, we.. met briefly before.”  
  
They had. Ritlyn had stared at him, dazed, after being hauled out of the cart. He hadn’t had his wits about him enough to offer his name- but Hadvar had still protested sending him to the block, saying that no wood elves his age were on their list.

“Yes, I remember,” Ritlyn rubbed his wrists where the ropes had dug in, “I’m Ritlyn.” “ _Ritlyn Willow-” “_ Ritlyn Willowlock.”

  
“Good to meet you Ritlyn. Let’s see if we can’t survive the day, hm? Take a look around. Maybe there’s something we can use..”

  
  
There was a book on a small table, along with a few gold coins. Ritlyn took interest in the gold for its shine- but he didn’t care for the book. He didn’t know how to read.

There was also a chest, containing armor four times too big for him and a dinged up iron sword.  
  


The sword felt cold and unnatural in his hand. But the voice was urging him to maintain his grip on it, and he felt he had little choice.

_________________________

  
  
Ritlyn couldn’t remember having ever fought before, but it seemed to come to him so naturally. He’d descended upon the stormcloak soldiers they soon encountered before they’d even had a chance to draw their weapons. One he grabbed from behind, plunging his sword into the man's rib cage from the fleshy spot at the base of the throat. The body fell to the ground in a heap, the woman’s soon following it.

  
“Erm,” Hadvar still stood in the doorway, shellshocked, hadn’t he been about to say something before Ritlyn shoved his way in? “You’re quite fast.”

  
_“He’s correct,”_ the voice cooed, _“You’re a natural Ritlyn, even I hadn’t been expecting that.”_

  
“Thank you.” Ritlyn said softly, conveniently being able to address both parties. He left the sword buried in the woman's back, instead taking the war axe that was hanging off of the dead man’s belt. The wood felt more natural in his grasp. But something still wasn’t right.

  
As Ritlyn followed Hadvar down through the keeps halls he questioned what it was he disliked about the weapons, getting so absorbed in his thoughts he hardly noticed when part of the roof collapsed or when two more stormcloaks fell dead at his feet.

  
“I think there were potions stored in here..” Hadvar said from behind him. Standing in a different doorway this time, his voice was gentle as if he was thinking Ritlyn would turn on him next.

  
“What’s that?” Ritlyn attempted to ask, only to have Hadvar brush past him to go look for a way to continue on.

  
It was the voice that explained to him what the liquid in each colorful bottle did, encouraging him to put them into the leather bag he’d found, and praising him for his continued collecting of more shiny coins.

Hadvar remained quiet as they continued further down, happening upon more nords to kill and two other imperials in what the voice said was a ‘torture room’. It smelled of coppery blood and mildewy stone. And on the head of the imperial tortuer was the most desirable hood Ritlyn had ever laid eyes on. Hadvar and the torturer's assistant went on ahead, but Ritlyn stayed back. 

  
_“You’ve been doing so well- Why have you stopped now?”_

_  
_ “I want it.” Ritlyn said softly, confusing the old man.

  
“What’s the matter with you, elf? Quit staring at me- Gods I can’t stand your eyes… Colder than a dragurs…” 

  
Given that Ritlyn was a head shorter and hardly anything more than skin and bones swimming in the borrowed armor, the tortuer didn’t seem to view him as a threat.

  
_“Well if you want something, why don’t you just take it?”_

_  
_ Ritlyn couldn’t think of a good answer, and neither Hadvar nor the assistant had any questions when he caught up with them wearing the torturer's hood.

  
___________

  
They continued on, the keeps stone brick halls soon giving way to a cavern instead. The assistant succumbed to stormcloak soldiers somewhere along the way. Hadvar seemed uncomfortable alone with Ritlyn again, but he didn’t attempt to dissolve their temporary partnership. In fact he even tried to protect Ritlyn.

  
“Careful, thats a bear up ahead.”

  
The soldier’s arm rested lightly on Ritlyn’s shoulder, pushing him down to hide behind a large rock.

  
“Its sleeping, we should be able to sneak by without much trouble-”

  
Ritlyn didn’t like that idea. He’d been getting near nonstop praise from the voice about his combat prowess so far. He couldn’t remember having ever been trained- or even what a bear was, but he felt as though he could take it down. He wanted to show his spectator the full extent of his abilities. 

  
“Hadvar, can I borrow that?”

  
Ritlyn pointed at the soldier's bow and quiver of arrows, causing the man to look sick to his stomach.

  
“I really don’t think it’s a good idea to-”

  
“Please. I can do it. Let me.”

  
Meekly, the soldier handed over his bow. Ritlyn felt as though the world had stood still for a moment when the weapon was passed into his hands. This felt right. His muscles acted of their own accord as he notched an arrow and took aim at the sleeping bear. He held his breath, released the arrow-

  
and missed.

  
The arrow hit the wall of rock behind the bear, waking it and sending Hadvar fumbling for his sword. But it hadn’t caught sight of them yet, and Ritlyn still felt he had a chance. He notched another arrow, not hesitating to let it fly. It embedded itself to the tails in the bear's eye. The creature didn’t even have a chance to make a sound before it fell over, slumping on its side right where it had been sound asleep moments earlier.

  
Ritlyn felt the warmth of the voices pride fill him as he retrieved the arrows. Hadvar said nothing, refusing to take his bow back when Ritlyn offered it to him.  
  


When they finally escaped the keeps caverns, Hadvar mumbled something about the two of them having better odds of survival if they split up and then took off towards the road. Ritlyn felt an odd sinking in his chest as he watched the man go, as far as he could tell, they’d been getting along splendidly.  
  
“ _Never mind him,”_ the voice soothed, “ _He’s served his purpose. You don’t need anyone besides me, my dear.”_

Just like that, Ritlyn’s discomfort faded.  
  
“You’re right,” he whispered aloud, “I’d rather it just be the two of us anyway.”  
  


* * *


End file.
